Great Expectations for Obama

I was too young to get swept up in the Clinton election of '92 or what that meant after three terms of Republican presidents. This euphoria that has captured me seems to have intoxicated the nation and world with hope as well. Obama's got a lot of pressure on him and his aides are trying to slowly lower expectations (which I think is pretty funny: you spend two years building him up and then need two intense months of breaking those expectations down so he won't disappoint).

But I think Obama will be great. And not because he is the first African American President or what his presidency means, but because out of bleak times comes an opportunity for greatness. I believe he will make the presidency his own and find his own definition of greatness that will begin the long process of rebuilding our fractured hope.

Obama Wins: A note to my friends abroad

While abroad I was often sadden at how America and Americans were perceived and that the disconnect between the American people and the Bush Administration was often hard to make. There were many, many times during 2004-2006, in which I was pulled to the side after someone found out that I was American and was told some variance of the fact that "After 9/11 we completely supported you–we stood right behind you and would do anything for you, anything for America. But then ..." after which would follow a litany of reasons why they didn't/couldn't support America's foreign diplomacy (lack there of), the war, Bush, Cheney, Rumsfield (I was always impressed by how many non-Americans could name the Bush Cabinet) and so on–all of which was said in earnest.

But all of this changes because we've got another chance. I have never felt that patriotism or kinship that nationalism is supposed to inspire. Yet, last night, for the first time, I did. As I watched the results come in with hundreds of other Obama volunteers, the sense of change and hope that was in the air was overwhelming. It might not seem like a huge deal, just one more election, but to me it's the mark of possibility: of what may be–of how great America can be when it has a great leader.

But mostly, I am thankful to President Obama and this election for making me realize that just when you think you don't even recognize the place you call home, something can surprise you, inspire you and bring you back to hope.

Shining Moment 10/29

At the Bowling Green stop off of Battery Park, I jumped on a 4 just about to leave the station happy as could be for my timing. Going to Brooklyn. I was trying to get to work. In Manhattan. Under the water, over a walkway, down to the 5 and I was back to where I started.

Burn After Reading- Just Burn The Movie

Worst. Movie. Ever. Okay, probably not, but it is one of the worst movies I've ever seen with such a cast that could have done so much more. Frances McDormand, George Clooney, Brad Pitt. Just a word about Brad Pitt, and Brad, this is for you, either commit to a character or don't take the role. Last night, you sucked so bad it was hard to believe. You were half committed to convincing the audience that you were this dorky character–and the other half you were just detached the character. Man Up. It was a bad character, but either you play it all the way, or you don't at all. Don't be afraid to be not cool–look at what it did for that kid from Napolean Dynamite or the kid from Super Bad, it works.

Palin, Seriously?

I feel like I'm in a bad sitcom/Lifetime movie. Palin is not qualified to be Vice President or President of the United States nor is she qualified to be Governor of Alaska. And I am not a sexist for saying that, I'm a realist. Are we really buying this? I am just shocked, absolutely shocked that America, or rather the media that is spoon feeding it to America is buying this BS. But I don't think we really are buying–not all of us for that matter. I believe strongly in an America in which people are not so easily swayed by political rhetoric at a time when we have need an administration/party change more than ever.

She's Not Qualified. Say it with me.

Offering Up Your Seat

Everyone gives up their seat for a pregnant lady. That's just the way it goes. This is not even in question (and for those of you who don't give it up, and you know who you are, well you are just low, low, low).

But what if you're not sure that the woman you want to offer your seat to is actually pregnant? What if you make that terrible mistake of offending and embarrassing a woman in front of a subway car full of gawkers?

That was my dilemma this morning on my ride to work. I spotted a woman, who, at first look, I thought had a bun in the oven as they say, and as I was about to get up to offer her my seat, I stopped. I wasn't sure.

As a friend pointed out, I could have just gotten up and offered her the seat anyways, but the problem was she was about eight to ten feet away with about six people in between- all hungry for a seat.

So if I just got up to give her the seat- I couldn't just point to her and say please sit here and all those seat-hawks would have jumped the second I got up from my precious little spot. And tapping her was out of the question–she was too far away to do the light tap and face of concern, which means hey I want this seat, but you look like you need it more look.


So I just sat there and felt a little guilty, but very comfortable.

A few sayings I don't understand

waiting with baited breath

beating a dead horse- where did this come from? why would you even think to say this in the first place? really? a dead horse?

off like a dirty shirt

I am sure Amy will be able to educate all of us on these.

The Underdogs Prevailed, Now What?

Despite being the richest and most powerful nation in the world, Americans identify with the underdog in sports, politics and any high school homecoming.

We revel in the possibility of the underdog–maybe it goes back to the American Revolution, I'm not really sure, but what I am sure of is that the possibility we see in the underdog provides us with an unbridled hope.

One that we can and do become addicted to despite having our hearts broken season after season (ask a Cubs or Mets fan).

It's a twisted love with continual heart break, but we can't get enough.

As a Red Sox fan, I am torn. Now that we have won two World Series, the 'curse' has been broken (a lovely story that gave our losses the ultimate pain: the knowledge that we had caused our own heart ache).

What do you do when you're team has risen to the top?

Now you're rooting for the Goliath of the sport? That's not fun.

There's no sport in slaughtering your opponent.

It's like hunting rabbits in a pet store with a semi-automatic, where's the sport in that?

No, the Sox are no longer the underdogs of baseball.

I miss that unrequited hope, that bitter-sweet loss. Are they going to win? Can we actually make this work? Oh wait, that's right no, we can't. Because we're the underdogs. I was okay with that, knowing where we were, and there was respect from other fans for sticking with a team despite loss after loss.

So I've thought about some new teams:

I like the Mets because they tease their fans along, you think your team is on a winning–streak and then they blow it- BIG TIME- with loss after loss after loss. To the point where you're embarrassed when someone's reading about it in the sports section of the post on the train to work the next morning.

I also like the Cubs, but they're more of a sure-fire losing team so there's not really that much fun in that.

And that about ends my knowledge of baseball teams.

So, out of the three, I'm sticking with my guys, the sometimes unstoppable (every 86 years and then 2 years later) Red Sox.

Super Bowl 42

It would be easy for me to point out all of the nay-sayers, all of the football fans who thought it couldn't be done, and especially easy for me to point out all of the sad, sad Patriots fans (and not just because their faces are still stained with bitter tears of shock and resentment toward Brady).

It would be easy.

But that's the problem, it's just too easy.

It would be like pulling a chair from underneath a blind person and then laughing when they fall.

Of course it's an easy joke and that's why I am not going to do it.

No, I won't focus on the arrogant statements by Patriots players, fans and most of New England before the game.

I'm going to focus on the David in this contest that successfully served up a lovely platter of New England Patriots for sacrifice: The Giants.

The Giants were the underdogs of not only the Super Bowl, but for much of the year and the took on the undefeated punks of football.

The Patriots thought of the Giants as a last speed bump on their highway to the perfect season.

But as we all now know, they thought wrong. Really, really wrong.

Don't Smoke and Run

During a walk on this beautiful sun-drenched day in Prospect Park, my beau and I came across a few Super Bowl inspired neighborhood football games.

None were organized in the sense of markers, jerseys or in some cases sneakers, but all had that "It's the last down, hail-Mary pass, ten seconds left" spirit to them.

We were drawn to one group that appeared to have quite a following and a lot of screaming and my-driveway-is-bigger-than-yours (a phrase a high school friend came up with to make fun of the kids who spent their time trying to figure out the newest way to out do the next kid) contests.

I'm not really sure who was winning because pass after pass was dropped or just not even close to being caught, but what I really liked about them was their ability to trash talk despite their inability to play. It was beautiful.

One of my favorite interactions between the better (? better is really up for discussion) was between a Joe Pesci look alike with cut off sweatpants with high red socks (think The Super), a puffy coat and a hoodie pulled over his head and one of his teammates.

Before I describe this, I have to explain that Pesci had just failed to complete a big pass and before this last bad pass he had fallen and before that he let a touchdown go by failing to touch the guy who was maybe four feet away from him and not doing any fancy foot work, nor was he that fast.

"Tower?" Pesci's roommate would scream (right next to him).

"Yea!" Pesci replied.

"Tower, you in the building?"

"Yeah!" Pesci yelled.

"Tower, you in the building?!"

"I AM the Building," Pesci screamed.

It was great. As this was conversation was going on the teams were lining up and one tall skinny kid on the opposing team turned his head to the sidelines very quickly and screamed,

"Hey, you smoking? I know you've got a cigarette, come on, Papa, give me a puff."

So, he runs out of the line up and takes a drag of some fan's cigarette before running back to the line up.

While that was bad, I've seen worse, which brings me to the title of the post.

During the NYC marathon I was just about to walk (definitely walking at this point and didn't start running again until Mile 16 over the 59th street bridge) over the Polanski bridge, which connects Greenpoint with Queens, when I saw her.

A woman walking about fifteen feet ahead and to the right of me.

She was SMOKING. Let me say that again, she was in the NYC marathon and SMOKING.

It was ridiculous, offensive and wonderfully funny all at the same time.

Eli, Eli, Eli!

As some have commented, Eli Manning is not exactly the alpha quarterback that coaches hope to have.

He's got the baby face. The "befuddled" look about him after a play goes wrong or right and just always seems to be out of place.

And yet, you have to root for him–I feel like I'm watching my son or brother playing (I have neither) when I am watching Eli.

He always looks lost, like he just haphazardly walked onto the field and they stuck a football in his hand and said give it a shot and somehow he's still here three years later.

But I'm not counting Eli out, sure he gets nervous–a lot.

Sure he throws interceptions–a lot.

Sure he freezes–a lot.

But when he's good, he's great.

He just needs that first touchdown and then he'll be off.

Can't wait to watch him during my Super Bowl extravaganza on Feb. 3, 2008.

Why a New England Girl is Rooting for the Giants

The title of the post has already alienated me from my Mom, boyfriend, a few colleagues and of course, most of New England.

But I don't care.

No–I'm rooting for the Giants. The David of this year's Super Bowl.

Sure there are lots of reasons I should hope that the Patriots should win:

1. I'm from Connecticut
2. Tom Brady is cuter than Eli Manning (although I'm not entirely convinced of this)
3. That whole 17 and 0 thing they've got going
4. Tons of other reasons that any New England fan will happily fill you in on if asked or even if you don't ask or just happen to walk by them, most likely they will be talking/ranting/raving about how the Patriots are going to kill the Giants in two weeks.

But I've got one good reason that's enough for me to root for the Giants:
They're the underdogs.

I love underdogs, which explains my love for the Red Sox for so many years (and why I'm sporting a Mets cap during baseball season, although I'm still a Sox fan at heart despite winning two World Series).

And everyone expects the Giants to be crushed, slaughtered- sort of a sacrificial offering to the Super Bowl gods on behalf of the Patriots to start a legacy- but I'm not interested in that.

I'd like to watch the Super Bowl and not have to wait for the next great Doritos commercial because we already know who's going to win.

No, I'd like to see the Giants take on their Goliath (no pun intended) and surprise everyone, but most of all Mr. Football himself, Mr. Tom-I-date-and-impregnate-hot-women-and-think-I'm-amazing-despite-throwing-
three-interceptions-against-San-Diego-Brady, and serve up their own lamb for sacrifice.

Anne Curry vs. Matt Lauer

During a gym session this morning, my friend and colleague and I were watching NBC's Today Show while working it out on the treadmill.

I mentioned to her that I am not a fan of Matt Lauer–I know that most viewers love Matt, but there's just something about him that's always bugged me–I don't know what it is.

Maybe it's just that he's too cute, too nice and too good at his job. Those kind of people always bug me; really, who can be that put together that early in the morning? And I realize this is probably an irrational dislike, but since when do you have to be rational in blog posts?

But I digress ... my exercising partner was appalled. "Not like Matt Lauer?" she asked in horror, "How can you not like Matt Lauer?'

I'd like to point out a few things here.

First, I get this response a lot.

Second, in every conversation in which I have discussed Matt, everyone says his first and last name when speaking about him. Can't we just go with Matt? Isn't that acceptable to relinquish the last name after the person's been identified in the conversation?

Nope. Not good enough for Matt Lauer. Got to say his last name too. I bet it's in his contract.

I started to explain my reasons, which are pretty well thought out at this point, when she appeared on screen. None other than Miss Anne Curry.

I love her.

Some people will say, oh you, you're overstating it. To them I say no ... no, I'm not.

Can you find a better morning news anchor than Anne? I don't think so.

(Notice I just say Anne and not her last name because that's the level I feel we're at- oh you've met? you might ask, no, no we haven't. But she's just one of those morning reporters that makes me feel like she could be like my friend or like best friend or something, I mean like ever)

My friend respectfully, but ignorantly disagreed with me.

So we're taking a poll to see what the general public thinks:

The Amazing Anne Curry or the Know-it-all-cuter-than-a-button-Matt Lauer (don't forget his last name!)

Comment in. The (unbiased) polls are open until Tuesday, January 22, 2008.

News: Serbia's not interested

This really isn't a post about Serbia announcing it is not willing to concede it's sovereignty over Kosovo despite the consequences of losing a shot at the EU.

This is really a post about one of my favorite sayings in the title of a Newsweek article: Sorry, Not Interested. I don't use the sorry as much as the not interested part.

Love it!

Running: best running store

This is a quickie, but on Sunday afternoon I had the best experience at Jack Rabbit, a running store on 7th Avenue in Brooklyn.

Todd, who I later found out is the store manager, sought me out as a confused and overwhelmed customer and found me a great sneaker.

He asked me few questions about my running, then looked at my feet and said he guessed I'm a pronator, which I am, and then filmed me running on a treadmill and analyzed my running.

He was funny, polite, but most important, he thoughtfully answered every question I had (and I had a lot of them) about running, sneakers, running hats, marathons, half marathons and the Iron Man competition (I don't have any fantasies about doing one of these any time soon, but find it particularly interesting).

Running: best doctor, best running mag and cool new running-tracking site (it's a blog and I can make up phrases if I want to)

Since I'm entering a little health competition with my friends, I'm starting running again this weekend. Okay, in the interest of candor–of which I am a huge fan– what I do is not what most would consider "running", it's more jogging-and-looking-sometimes-stopping-at-tag-sales-or-to-look-at-something-cool/interesting. But since I did run the NYC Marathon–again not so much as run as jog/walk/jog and walk– I've picked up my favorite running magazine, Runner's World, which is also online and I find that incredibly useful.

It offers something for just about everyone that has an interest in running: for new runners, it has a beginner's section, for veterans it has articles on how to up your personal records and for everyone in between they have running schedules, running events and even injury advice.

This brings me to my third point, which I guess I should switch the organization of my title around, but I just love that I don't have to because it's a blog- it's like get out of jail card- my favorite doctor: Jim Wharton. Okay, he's not really a doctor, but a stretching guru, but anyone who can fix my back like he did, I consider a doctor (when several others including chiropractors have failed). I went to the Wharton Center on the Upper West Side about three months into my training and ten years of back pain. The marathon training had pushed me over the edge of pain and I had to do something- Wharton showed me all of the stretches I needed to heal my back. It just so happens that Jim is in every month's runner's world with suggestions on how to stretch better and avoid injury.

Lastly, I also highly recommend a new site my friend and running guru (that's the word of today's post) Liz gave me: Flotrack. It lets you connect with other runners and see what events are available all while updating your personal training information.

News: Bilawal

I recently wrote a story on Bilawal Bhutto Zardari's first press conference. To lose your Mom and then be thrust into a role you don't really have any say in accepting–I can't imagine. But of course I can't imagine, none of us can really.

But what most of us can imagine because most of us have been there is being a freshman in college and going on vacation for Christmas holiday, which is exactly where and what Bilawal was doing before he received notice to come home.

While Bilawal held great composure and did a decent job of handling the questions from reporters, it's obvious the entire time you're watching him that he's only 19. For most of the conference he keeps a veil, albeit a thin one, over the fact that he is not experienced at this and doesn't really want to be there.

At one point in the conference he slips back into college mode and remarks, "Okay, Wow" at one reporter's three part question.

It's mid-way through the conference before Bilawal is roughed up by reporter Jeremy Paxman, who showed no mercy that he was dealing with a teenager who has lost his mother and been thrust into the limelight all within two weeks.

As one Guardian reporter stated, "It was like watching a bully kicking a kitten."

Hopefully, Bilawal will receive the privacy he's requested while studying at Oxford University for the next few years before returning to Pakistan to act as leader of the Pakistan People's Party.

Haley Maley

Hey Haley,

Thanks for my blog.

Best,

Kate